Now, park your ass on a seat and write with unshackled originality.

(Please.)

My spin teacher brings a cowbell to class.

She uses it to convince us - her herd of hamster cyclists going nowhere in darkened room decked out like the guts of a spaceship - that we’re actually real cyclists, charging up a mountain in regional France.

As we sprint along the imaginary flat, round the imaginary corner and crank the resistance to replicate a hill, our mad instructor starts ringing her red cowbell.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

We, her lumpy lycra-clad subordinates, hear the bell and rise in unison, pumping and pedaling and proudy passing the checkpoint like we’re Cadel bloody Evans.

She’s conditioning us:

Hear the bell.

Feel the burn.

Climb the mountain.

And even though our fitness is utter fiction, we obey the angry middle-aged lady and her cowbell.

We love spin class!

We love mountains!

We worship the bell!

This afternoon, as my legs pedalled up a particularly precipitous indoor incline, I got to thinking about the power of association.

He’s 14. And brilliant. And uses a lot of words I’m not familiar with.

Yeah, those kind.

But also words like ‘tool’.

Nope, not that kind. The handy, silvery type that every adult should own.

Within 10 minutes of arriving, lil bro was tinkering with my bike; an osteoporotic specimen named ‘Alice’ propped next to the compost heap.

He held out his palm out like a surgeon: Wrench? Phillips head? Where’s your toolkit, Catie? You AT LEAST have WD-40...right?

I jangled some junk under the sink to make my search sound convincing.

But emerged empty handed. There were no tools in my house. Nada. Zero. Zip.

If something should ever need unscrewing, like a wailing smoke detector at 3am, it’s a butter knife or bust.

Bro said: All this bike needs is a tighten, tweak and a spritz of magic handyman juice and she’ll be back on the road.

So we went immediately to the holy-grail of hardware. The place that starts with a ‘Bun’ and ends with a $2 sausage sizzle. Stocked up on tools, stole some paint samples and returned home.

True to his word, brother magically resurrected Alice in under 10 minutes. Something I could have done 6 months ago if i’d had, like, a spanner.

Me = tool.

Now, the bit that’s relevant to business.

As I took Alice for a long-awaited spin, I got to thinkin’: How many business owners aren’t actioning newsletters, blogs, content and social media campaigns because they don’t have simple tools on hand?

Like me, perhaps you’re just not aware how easy it is to DIY.

Also like me, you don’t have big bucks to spend on outsourcing to fancy designers, programmers, hell - even copywriters.

2. Mailchimp

What: An online email marketing tool. What I use to get in touch wit y’all.

You need it if: You want to send periodic emails or newsletters to your database.

How to use it: Look, I’m in Mailchimp kindergarten. I won’t attempt to tutor you on the finer points because, frankly, I don’t know them. But! All you need to do to get started is head to the website and open an account.

I use the el basico free version to plan out upcoming blogs & newsletters. I also share projects with clients so they know what’s in store, content-wise. They can add notes and chat with me, live. Pretty spesh.

It can help you:

map out your social media posts & topics

map out blog & content themes, topics, calendar events

keep your team abreast of what’s happening in your biz

delegate tasks

4. Google Docs

Right now I’m typing away in Google Docs, cos if my ancient iMac falls asleep in the armchair, I know my work is instantaneously saved. I’ll then paste it into my blog, and always have a copy for my records.

Why you’ll love it, too:

No more incompatible file types.

Share documents with people via a link.

They can ‘hop in’ and access the document, but you get to specify whether they can comment, edit or simply read it.

If you’ve given someone permission to edit your doc, they’ll be assigned their own little (ridiculously cute) animal icon. Changes will appear in a different colour as ‘suggestions’.

5. 1Password

With all these nifty tools for nailing your content, there’ll be passwords. A swag of passwords that you’ll instantly forget and spend minutes - precious minutes! - trying to crack at the log-in screen. That’s how receding hairlines happen.

Now, there’s 1Password.

What: a completely secure app for not only keeping your passwords together, but generating new & robust ones, too.

Caveat: only the trial is free. After that, it’s around 50 bucks to have it for keeps.

Right. You’ve been officially tooled.

(And I’m all outta jokes. Timing!)

Oh, and just so ya know, none of these big ole companies are sponsoring me or anything. I just genuinely love their work. If you’re reading though, Google, wouldn’t mind an invite to your next networking event with the floating ping pong tables and hologram ponies. Ta.

How you holding up? Do you thrive or wilt during December? Are you sticking with family or sailing solo during the hols?

Festive interrogation, over.

Onto the reindeer!

Tis the season to make readers cringe with hackneyed christmas references.

Which means that any ‘better writing’ tips I give during the month of December must mention fat dudes, backyard cricket, 20/20 cricket, fat dudes playing backyard 20/20 cricket or inedible cake (Santa ate the good stuff).

As I was pondering how the heck to relate Christmas and writing, I glanced at my dog.

My dog Daaave the greyhound.

Daaave the greyhound with elongated features and extendable limbs and an uncanny resemblance to… REINDEER!

(Hey, if you’re anything like me, you’re guilty of slinging technical terms around like a scholarly cowboy and leaving your clients in a whorl of dusty confusion. So, no judgement.)

Ditching the jargon doesn’t mean:

Treating your audience like a bunch o hicks.

Dumbing down your brilliance.

Failing to educate people about the cool shit you do.

It does mean:

Keeping things simple.

Explaining unfamiliar terms.

Staying conscious of what matters to your audience.

How to avoid slipping into jargon/crazy shit mode

Ask of every piece of written and verbal communication:

→ What question am I answering?

→ Who’s asking?

→ What’s the simplest way I can respond?

→ What words do THEY use to describe the problem?

→ Are there any technical terms that need explaining?

→ If so - what analogies or simple metaphors can I use to paint a picture?

You may slip up and blurt antidisestablishmentarianism in a moment of technical enthusiasm, but don’t despair; by always returning to the needs of the person in front of you - reader, follower, customer, client - you’ll keep your crazy shit to a minimum, and comprehension to a maximum.

So I forwarded the real estate agent a Canine CV + glowing reference from my last residence.

Want to read it?

Be my guest.

The owner did, and revised her no-pets policy.

So not only am I typing this from my new bedroom - double doors opening onto a cobbled courtyard, pretty plaster ceilings and snoozing dog in the corner - but I’m once again marveling at the power of words.

It’s all in the way that you say it.

In business, life, love, rental rejection, the right words win hearts, make sales, build relationships and get your paw in the door of that previously pet-unfriendly property.

Oh, and the media cameo?

A friend-of-a-friend - who’s a radio presenter for Adelaide’s main pop station - heard about our rental win and featured Dave’s story on her morning show.